space wondering why the bathroom is so tiny in such enormous quarters. I realize that it likely shares a wall with Ghent’s room. His mothers probably remodeled it to give him more space. Everything in here is white: tiles, towels, fixtures. The lamplight bathes the room in shadows, making my reflection in the mirror seem alien. The hollows remain under my mismatched eyes. Strange that Ghent hasn’t asked me about them.
Even in the dim light, I can see that my face is slicked with grease. My hair hangs in thick hanks around my shoulders. I gaze at the shower stall longingly, but I make do with splashing water on my cheeks and cleaning up as best I can. I try to pry some of the dirt from under my fingernails, but soon give up. There’s a lavender soap. It smells heavenly, and I use it liberally on my hands, reveling in its soothing scent and soft, creamy texture for as long as I dare.
An antique comb sits on a shelf beside the mirror. I hope no one will mind if I use it. Wetting it first, I attack the worst of the tangles in my hair and gradually restore order to chaos. I reach into my pocket, relieved to find a hair tie. I use it to slip my hairinto a ponytail before replacing the comb on the shelf. When I notice my reflection again, I’m surprised by the look of grim determination on my face. I’m going to get out of this mess somehow. And get Ghent outside the palisade.
When I leave the bathroom, the quarters are empty, and I panic for a few seconds before realizing that everything is exactly how we left it. Ghent must have gone back to his room. I head for the panel. It’s slightly ajar. I tap before entering. Ghent’s sitting cross-legged on the crate, wolfing down a nutri-bar.
“We need a plan,” I say as I snap the panel back into place. My voice is surprisingly confident. “We need to find out about your mothers. You said Epsie was sick.”
“It’s a kidney problem,” he says, offering me a nutri-bar. I wave it away even though I’m hungry. I need to focus. “She’s had it most of her life, but Del has been able to keep it under control, until now.”
“There must be a record of her in the Clinic, right?”
Ghent regards me with a scowl. “You don’t think I thought of that already? I can’t use any communications port without being discovered, and now neither can you.”
That’s true. With Commander Theta watching me, I can’t access the communications system either, not even from a public terminal. “We’ll have to ask someone else.” I fold my arms over my chest and lean back against the wall, trying to project confidence I’m not sure I feel.
“Brilliant idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” He shoves the last morsel of the nutri-bar into his mouth.
“Don’t get mad at me. We’re in this together now.”
Ghent is on his feet, pacing again. Tension crackles in the air around us.
“Who can we ask for help?” he says.
I shake my head, then look up at his eyes. They remind me of someone else, another set of warm brown eyes, soft and reassuring. “Gamma Temple. Her mother is a Med-Tech.”
Ghent’s brows shoot up as he strides forward and grabs my elbows, gripping them too tight. I cringe as pain shoots through my arm. “Did you say
Temple?
We can’t talk to them. Please tell me you didn’t say anything to the Temple family about me.”
“Ghent, what’s wrong?”
“The Temples! They’re all that’s left of an old religious order. They believe that men are evil, should be tortured, and killed. They were amongst those who planned the palisade and drove the men away in the first place. What did you tell them?”
He releases my arms and rakes his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick out in messy spikes. I clasp my hands together to steady them. “Ghent, they’re my friends. They know nothing about you. I promise.”
He paces across the room and leans into the wall, pressing his head into his forearms. Sweat stains his collar, and his hair is still a
Even in the dim light, I can see that my face is slicked with grease. My hair hangs in thick hanks around my shoulders. I gaze at the shower stall longingly, but I make do with splashing water on my cheeks and cleaning up as best I can. I try to pry some of the dirt from under my fingernails, but soon give up. There’s a lavender soap. It smells heavenly, and I use it liberally on my hands, reveling in its soothing scent and soft, creamy texture for as long as I dare.
An antique comb sits on a shelf beside the mirror. I hope no one will mind if I use it. Wetting it first, I attack the worst of the tangles in my hair and gradually restore order to chaos. I reach into my pocket, relieved to find a hair tie. I use it to slip my hairinto a ponytail before replacing the comb on the shelf. When I notice my reflection again, I’m surprised by the look of grim determination on my face. I’m going to get out of this mess somehow. And get Ghent outside the palisade.
When I leave the bathroom, the quarters are empty, and I panic for a few seconds before realizing that everything is exactly how we left it. Ghent must have gone back to his room. I head for the panel. It’s slightly ajar. I tap before entering. Ghent’s sitting cross-legged on the crate, wolfing down a nutri-bar.
“We need a plan,” I say as I snap the panel back into place. My voice is surprisingly confident. “We need to find out about your mothers. You said Epsie was sick.”
“It’s a kidney problem,” he says, offering me a nutri-bar. I wave it away even though I’m hungry. I need to focus. “She’s had it most of her life, but Del has been able to keep it under control, until now.”
“There must be a record of her in the Clinic, right?”
Ghent regards me with a scowl. “You don’t think I thought of that already? I can’t use any communications port without being discovered, and now neither can you.”
That’s true. With Commander Theta watching me, I can’t access the communications system either, not even from a public terminal. “We’ll have to ask someone else.” I fold my arms over my chest and lean back against the wall, trying to project confidence I’m not sure I feel.
“Brilliant idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” He shoves the last morsel of the nutri-bar into his mouth.
“Don’t get mad at me. We’re in this together now.”
Ghent is on his feet, pacing again. Tension crackles in the air around us.
“Who can we ask for help?” he says.
I shake my head, then look up at his eyes. They remind me of someone else, another set of warm brown eyes, soft and reassuring. “Gamma Temple. Her mother is a Med-Tech.”
Ghent’s brows shoot up as he strides forward and grabs my elbows, gripping them too tight. I cringe as pain shoots through my arm. “Did you say
Temple?
We can’t talk to them. Please tell me you didn’t say anything to the Temple family about me.”
“Ghent, what’s wrong?”
“The Temples! They’re all that’s left of an old religious order. They believe that men are evil, should be tortured, and killed. They were amongst those who planned the palisade and drove the men away in the first place. What did you tell them?”
He releases my arms and rakes his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick out in messy spikes. I clasp my hands together to steady them. “Ghent, they’re my friends. They know nothing about you. I promise.”
He paces across the room and leans into the wall, pressing his head into his forearms. Sweat stains his collar, and his hair is still a
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